


Skinny Pete and the Tech Crew Nemesis

by DangerousCommieSubversive



Series: Secret Six: The College Years [2]
Category: DCU, Secret Six
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Roommates/Housemates, Gen, Rivalry, Theatre
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-28
Updated: 2014-05-28
Packaged: 2018-01-26 22:05:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,040
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1704191
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DangerousCommieSubversive/pseuds/DangerousCommieSubversive
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Skinny Pete is mostly a pretty decent guy. He's <em>weird,</em> but nice, and mostly he likes people.</p><p>Except Jervis Tetch.</p><p>He <em>hates</em> Jervis Tetch.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Skinny Pete and the Tech Crew Nemesis

**Author's Note:**

> As a fair warning, this story contains brief mention of rape and drug use and _references_ to rape humor--Jervis Tetch is not a pleasant man--but references only. They are, however, fairly brief references.

There were very few things that Peter Merkel—known as Skinny Pete to his friends, Creepy Pete to his enemies, “that Merkel kid” to his professors, and the Remarkable Ragdoll to regular patrons of the twice-weekly burlesque night at the Chained Mustache Club—were concerned about. When he was younger he'd worried about making friends, but now he _had_ friends. His grades were _excellent,_ he was making plenty of money at his various jobs, and he hadn't heard from his father in at _least_ a year. He'd had a rapid recovery after his most recent surgery.

Mostly what Pete worried about was art, and occasionally the possibility of getting eaten by the tiger.

And, recently, Jervis Tetch.

 

–

 

“ The hell kind of a name is  _Jervis Tetch?_ ”

“It's a  _pretentious_ name for a worthless  _poseur._ ” Pete squinted at his glass of orange juice critically, shook some salt into it, and then drained the lot. “He is  _everything_ that I despise.”

Floyd mimed gagging. “Pete, why would you  _do_ something like that?”

Pete sniffed. “For  _art._ Something that's already been experienced is  _worthless._ ”

“Well,  _that_ explains why you can't hang onto a girlfriend.”

“They wouldn't need to be a  _girl_ friend. I'm flexible.”

“That you are.”

Scandal sat down heavily next to Floyd and thumped her plate down on the table. “So what you're  _saying_ , Pete, is that this Tetch guy is just as weird as you and you don't want the competition.”

“That's presumptuous of you. Also, yes. The official position of 'character' at this school has already been filled. And his constructions are far too elaborate; he's wasting theater budget.”

“You don't actually have a reason for hating him, do you?”

“He's  _loathsome._ You'd hate him too if you met him.”

Thomas padded into the kitchen, Katie at his heels, and began to rummage in the fridge. “What are we talking about?”

Floyd half-turned—“ _Shit,_ Tom, put some fucking pants on, we don't wanna see your leopard-print ass. We're talking about how Skinny Pete hates this Jervis Tetch guy.”

“Tetch, Tetch...wait, I  _know_ him, he's that douche with the hat. We have Brit lit together. Total creep. Obssessed with Lewis Carroll.”

Pete stewed. “I'm going to destroy him.”

Thomas patted him on the shoulder. “You do that, Pete. We'll be right behind you.”

 

–

 

Pete always got to class first. He got there before  _anyone._ He'd arrive at the silent classroom, fold himself into a seat in the front row, and wait quietly for the next students to arrive, not notice him, and then scream in surprise. Sometimes he wore a mask, for extra shock value.

Today, though, he reached the classroom and  _Jervis Tetch_ was already  _there._

He pretended to smile. “Jervis.”

“Pete.” Tetch's massive front teeth protruded yellowly from his mouth as he grinned. His stupid top hat was, today, cocked at a positively  _insulting_ angle. “Aren't you normally the first one here?”

` “Typically.” Pete draped himself across a chair, eyes narrowing. “But how would  _you_ know that? You're always  _late._ ”

“Fashionably so. Today I suppose I mistimed.”

“So it's all an act, then.”

“Isn't everything?”

“I suppose so.” Pete considered it for a moment, and then got up and moved to a chair directly next to Tetch's. _Know thine enemy._ “So what are you planning for the midterm project?”

 

–

 

“Wait, are they _sitting_ together?”

“Who?” Jeannette looked up from her soup with a frown. “Who's sitting together?”

“Skinny Pete.”

“That's only one person, dear. Not that I don't think he'd _try_ to sit with himself.”

“He's sitting with Jervis Tetch. He was just talking this _morning_ about how much he hates that guy.” Scandal squinted across the dining hall at them, cramming an entire roll into her mouth as she did so. “Ee sa e's going to deftroy im.”

Bane looked up from his book long enough to say, “You shouldn't eat so quickly, it's not healthy.”

“You don't control me.”

“No.” He paused. “But we _do_ share a bathroom, and if nothing else I would rather not deal with your constipation.”

Jeannette blinked. “ _Oh._ Jervis Tetch. You know, I've _met_ him. He sent in a response to my call for roommates.”

Scandal raised an eyebrow. “Why'd you turn him down? It's not like there aren't still empty bedrooms.”

She shrugged. “I thought he was a creep.”

The topic of their discussion was, at the moment, chortling glutenously in response to something Pete had said. Even sitting, Pete towered over him, grimacing in a way that looked extraordinarily like a friendly smile. As they watched, he bent down to listen to something Tetch was saying, and then tossed his head back in a hyena-like laugh.

Scandal stood up abruptly. “I'm going over there.”

Bane and Jeannette both looked at her, surprised. Jeannette frowned. “Why?”

“He's about to blow his stack, if I don't go get him now he'll end up doing something he regrets.”

 

–

 

Pete leaned against Scandal's shoulder, fuming as she rubbed the back of his neck. “I _hate_ him.”

“What'd he say?”

“Do you have any _idea_ what he thinks is _funny?_ ”

“Is it any weirder than what _you_ think is funny?”

“It's _vile. I_ cultivate a sense of the _bizarre. He_ just relies on bad taste and shock value.”

“...did he make a rape joke?”

_“_ _Several.”_

“Oh, Pete.”

“I want him gone.”

“Well, I'd say you should kill him, but that'd just get you kicked out of school. Not that I wouldn't help you hide a body.”

Pete suddenly went very still. “That's _it._ ”

“Ah...” Scandal frowned. “What is?”

“I'm going to get him _kicked out of school._ ” He grabbed her shoulders. “You're a genius, Scandal!”

“If you kiss me I'll have to hit you, you know my policy on guy kisses.”

“I'm not a guy right now, I'm a _force of nature._ ”

“...so how are you going to get him kicked out of school, then?”

“I don't know yet. That's what I need to figure out.”

 

–

 

The kitchen table was covered in blank character sheets. Bane was reading one, slowly. He looked puzzled. “This is a _game?_ ”

“One of the best.” Floyd paused. “If you're a fucking nerd.”

Scandal rolled her eyes. “Oh, please. Like _you_ didn't spend last Saturday marathoning fantasy movies and arguing with Tom about 'best Conan.'”

“Jason Momoa,” Thomas said immediately, not looking up from the rulebook he'd pulled up on his laptop.

“You're just saying that because he gets you all—you are _not_ rolling catfolk.”

“Says you.”

“You're such a fucking middle schooler.”

“Shut up, Floyd.”

“ _I_ like catfolk.”

“Holy _shit,_ Pete, don't _do_ that to me.”

Pete sat down, grabbed a character sheet, and grinned. “So obviously we're going to need a bard.”

“Oh _god._ ” Floyd buried his face in his hands. “Who's _running_ this mess?”

Pale fingers dragged through his hair, and Jeannette purred, “That would be me, dear.”

There was a pause. Then, muffled by his hands, Floyd said, “So does this make me the DM's bratty girlfriend?”

“I'll get you some lipgloss and a low-cut shirt if it'll help you get into character.” She smiled and sat down next to him. “And I promise not to go easy on you.”

“You _never_ go easy on me, I've got _bruises_ from last night.” Floyd finally raised his head, saw everyone staring at him with varying degrees of interest, and groaned. “Yep. Ok. DM's girlfriend. That's me. Can we just start rolling dice already?”

“If you like, dear.” Jeannette had what looked like five or six rulebooks pulled up on a little tablet. “Does everyone have a general idea of what they'd like to play?”

Pete dropped a pouch of dice on the table. “Bard. _Tiefling_ bard.”

Floyd sighed. “I figure I'll do ranger. That way at least I can shoot things.”

Thomas had already started making notes on his sheet. “Barbarian. And I'm catfolk. I'll send you the splatbook if you need it.”

“I don't recall authorizing any splats, Thomas.”

“Oh, come _on,_ don't be like that.”

“Scandal, what are they talking about?”

“Supplemental rulebooks so you can do ridiculous complicated shit. Tom's being a pain. Come on, Bane, what kind of character do you want to play? It really _is_ fun, I promise.”

He frowned at the _Player's Handbook_ Scandal had opened in front of him. “If I'm a cleric, can I use unarmed combat?”

Everyone at the table looked thrilled. Scandal nodded enthusiastically. “ _Yes,_ Bane. Yes you _can._ ”

 

–

 

Pete paced wildly in the living room. Katie followed at his heels, batting at a loose thread that hung from the back of his shirt. He scowled. “I need to figure out _how_ to get him kicked out of school.”

“Who?”

“ _Tetch,_ Floyd. Jervis Tetch. The one I've been talking about all day. How do you get someone kicked out of school?”

“Tell the Dean he killed someone.”

Jeannette, draped across the couch with her feet in Floyd's lap and her nose in a business textbook, said, “Plant drugs in his bag.”

“Gaslight him.” Thomas was lying along the _top_ of the couch. “I could help you convince him he's being hunted by a pride of hungry lions.”

“I—” Pete stopped pacing, his eyebrows drawing down. Katie immediately pounced on the loose thread she'd been chasing. _“How?”_

“I know a guy at the zoo.”

“I don't think that's quite what I need.”

Bane and Scandal were still in the kitchen, working very slowly through his character sheet.

“What's your race again?”

“I'm Santa Priscan.”

“No, I mean in—where _is_ Santa Prisca, anyway?”

“About ten miles east of French Guiana. Although my father wasn't from there, he was white.”

Pete leaned in through the doorway, tripped as Katie tangled herself in the unraveling thread, and caught himself on the kitchen table. “How would _you_ two get someone kicked out of school? Fucking—cat. _Stop._ ”

Bane shrugged. “Where I'm from, if you want someone gone you tell the secret police they're spreading sedition. Or you let the resistance know that they're a rapist.”

Pete went very still. “That's not funny.”

“I'm not joking.”

“You'd lie about _that?_ ”

“I don't tell lies.”

_“Oh.”_

Scandal had started playing with her phone, and now she looked up, eyes wide. “ _Or_ you could let administration know he's selling hallucinogenic drugs on campus.”

Pete shook his head. “Jeannette already suggested planting drugs on him.”

“No, seriously, Talia just Facebooked me—”

“I thought you hated her.”

“I _do,_ but _she_ doesn't know that, and her sister is _smoking_ hot. Apparently Nyssa bought some Adderall from him, she's cramming for a big exam, and he spiked it with acid. She's a mess. Talia's _pissed._ ”

Pete _beamed._ “If you'll excuse me, I need to make a few phone calls.”

 

–

 

Two days after that, Pete didn't get to class early. The first arrivals entered cautiously, keeping an eye out for any potential gruesome masks or odd sitting positions, but he wasn't there.

He hadn't shown up by the time Jervis Tetch arrived, ten minutes late as was usual.

In fact, he didn't show up to class at all.

It was _weird._

As he was getting out his notebook, Jervis glanced at the empty seat that would have contained Pete and smiled, cheerfully.

 

–

 

Half an hour after class ended, however, Pete _was_ at the campus theater, arguing with a professor.

“Oh, come on, Professor Dodds, I need theater time to rehearse for my next show.”

Professor Dodds sighed. “Look. Pete. I'd be _happy_ to reserve you some time, but the slot you want is already booked.”

“By _who?_ ”

“Jervis Tetch. He's building a barber's chair for _Sweeney Todd,_ and he's booked that time to test his rig.”

“ _Tetch? He_ doesn't—”

There was a shout from backstage. Pete and Dodds looked up.

As they stared, Jervis Tetch emerged from backstage in handcuffs, flanked by two police officers. One of the officers was carrying a small plastic bin filled with what appeared to be Ziploc bags.

Jervis caught Pete's eye, face twisted in an angry grimace.

Pete grinned, and then winked, slowly.

And then he turned back to Professor Dodds. “You were saying about that time slot?”

Dodds blinked and wiped off his glasses on his sleeve. “Hm. Ah. You know, it might be free after all.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> If you enjoyed the story, please leave me a comment!


End file.
